The Meaning of Adorkable
by rlassie
Summary: AH/Non-Magic. Harry Potter is dweeb personified and doesn't give a rat's hairy hind end. He is who he is; it's as simple as that. Draco Malfoy is rich, popular and not as confident as he appears. He usually wouldn't have lowered himself to geek-pool level if his life depended on it. These two meet at a party and stereotypes collide. The results turn both their worlds upside down.
1. Re-meet

**The Meaning of Adorkable**

Disclaimer: As this is All Human/Non-Magic, the plot is obviously mine. The names of the characters and the original story this is based from belong to the great Rowling.

**Chapter One – Re-meet**

* * *

Harry leaned against the wall and took a sip from his cup, the same one he'd been nursing all night. He watched as everywhere around him, college students flailed their arms about, drank themselves stupid and competed with each other in a bid to score the best looking guy or girl to take home and shag for the night. It was an amusing ritual to watch, and as the frat house pumped with some type of screaming music, he took another sip and rested his head against the wall, a somewhat cynical smile playing across his lips.

He had no clue why he'd allowed himself to be talked into coming here tonight. His roommate had desperately wanted to go, but all Harry had wanted to do was lie down on his bed with his laptop and immerse himself in the box-set of _Inuyasha_. He'd finally gotten his aunt to send it to him, which had been a major feat in itself, considering his uncle all but hated him and wouldn't lift a finger to help him if his nephew was on fire. True, he probably could've brought a whole new series if he was that desperate for it, but he'd really wanted his own, original one, the one his godfather had given to him.

And now, on the day that it had finally arrived, he was stuck here, pretending to have a good time, just so Ron could continue in his extremely long quest to tap Lavender Brown.

A laughing couple streaked by him, the girl wearing so little you could barely called her dressed. They jostled him as they shot past and Harry frowned after them, wiping his spilt drink from his sleeve. It was shameless, really, what a bird would do to get some blokes attention. Did they really not have any respect for themselves at all? Did they not realize that leaving something to the imagination was a lot sexier than showing every bit of skin they could legally get away with?

He snorted to himself. Not like he could actually form an opinion on what was considered sexy in the fairer sex. He was a flaming fairy, as gay as they could possibly get without wholeheartedly embracing the stereotype. The only thing he felt or thought of when he looked at a bird's bare boobs, was to wonder how their backs handled carrying them around all day. It must be tiresome for them, mustn't it, especially consider some of them were just so big?

Shaking his head at his thoughts, his gaze roamed the room to catch the sight of Ron leaning up against the fireplace and whispering in Lavender's ear. Going by the sultry smile on the girl's face, it actually looked like his best mate might get somewhere tonight. Which meant that Harry wouldn't be leaving anytime soon. He sighed and pulled himself away from the wall. If he was going to be stuck here, watching overly-loud, horribly-drunk mating rituals, he was going to need more lubrication than a single, now half-empty drink.

Turning, he went to make his way into the kitchen to secure himself more of that much-needed lubrication, and bumped solidly into a tall, broad back. He stumbled backwards, hitting the wall again, and when the bloke turned around to see who had run into him, Harry's mouth nearly hit the floor.

"Christ almighty. Draco?"

The blond in front of him frowned, confusion running quickly across his pale, upper-class features. His could-be-called white hair was slicked back in a style that looked effortless, but was probably far from it, and his long, lean body was clad in tailored black slacks and a fitted grey shirt that matched the colour of his eyes perfectly. In a word, he looked delicious, just as he always had.

What the bloody hell was Harry's high school crush doing at a Princeton University frat house party?

"I'm sorry, do I know you?" Draco asked, his voice rich and deep, like smooth, dark chocolate, sinful and luscious. Harry shivered at the sound and then swallowed and pulled away from the wall once more, mentally telling himself to get a grip. Of course Draco bloody Malfoy wouldn't know who he was. His kind didn't socialize with geeks like him, no matter that they'd slept under the same roof for seven years.

"No, I don't suppose you do. But not to worry, I won't hold it against you," he said, sticking out his hand. He wasn't going to pass up probably the only opportunity he'd ever get to touch that skin. "I'm Harry, Harry Potter. We went to high school together."

"We did?" Draco questioned, his smoke-grey gaze running over him, not taking the hand offered. Harry nodded and dropped it, pushing aside the uncomfortableness the surprising intensity of that gaze produced.

"Yeah. Same year and everything."

Draco blinked and his brows slowly rose to meet his hairline, which was to say, quite spectacularly high. "_You _went to Hogwarts College?"

Harry's mouth twisted wryly at the insinuation that the likes of him was no way near good enough to attend an well-to-do boarding school like Hogwarts. Now he remembered one of the reasons why he'd never even though to try his hand at Malfoy. Despite being bloody gorgeous, Draco Malfoy just wasn't someone Harry could see himself being with. He was a rich, snobby git who thought himself better than everyone else, _especially_ scholarship students.

Besides, Harry was pretty positive he had the wrong bits dangling between his legs for Malfoy anyway. Though he couldn't ever remember seeing the blond god with anyone in high school – and he'd certainly looked hard enough – he didn't think Malfoy would allow himself to be gay. He'd probably see it as disgusting and wrong.

"I sure did. 'Course, I was on a scholarship, but I did go. Now, I believe I really need a drink. Catch you around, Malfoy."

He turned to walk away from the blond, inwardly shaking his head. Christ, leopards really didn't change their spots, did they? Draco Malfoy was as stuck-up as he'd been in high school, and the very last person Harry wanted to spend time with. Which was a shame, really. He was still as eye-catching as ever.

He only managed to take two steps before he was stopped by a hand on his arm.

"Wait."

Harry looked back over his shoulder, pushing his glasses up and blinking at the other man in surprise. Malfoy was frowning again and going by the set of his jaw, it looked like he was grinding his teeth.

"I apologize. I did not mean to make it sound as if… insulting you was not my intention. Can we start again?"

Harry's mouth fell open once more. Bloody hell. Had Malfoy just _apologized? _He turned around completely and folded his arms across his chest, regarding the man curiously.

"Alright, who are you and what have you done with Draco Malfoy?"

The blond's brows furrowed. "I'm not sure I know what you mean."

"You _sound_ like Draco Malfoy, all posh and hoity-toity and the like, but the bloke _I_ know would have never apologized for anything, let alone spoken to me in the first place. So, I want to know who the imposter is."

Comprehension flickered through his eyes and Draco sighed quietly, a grimace pulling at his lips. Harry's own gaze dropped down to watch that mouth move before he quickly jerked it away again. God damn it. Why did those lips have to look so bloody kissable?

"High school was two years ago, Potter. People do change."

"Do they?" Harry murmured, considering him once more. As he met and held Malfoy's gaze, he suddenly wondered if there was more behind that cool, aloof stare than met the eye.

Maybe leopards _could_ change their spots.

"Alright then," he said finally. "But I meant it when I said I needed that drink. Care to join me?"

Malfoy hesitated for a second and then gave Harry a single nod, expression still unreadable. Harry smiled, turned around and led the way to the kitchen, where he refilled his cup from the keg on the table. It certainly wasn't top shelf stuff, but it would do in a pinch. He grabbed another cup and waved it in Malfoy's direction, offering him some of the liquor as well. His brows rose when the blond shook his head.

"No, thank you. I don't drink."

"Neither do I, really, but with all that's going on here tonight, I need something else to focus on instead. This junk does the trick if you don't think too hard about where it may have come from."

Draco cocked his head as Harry took a sip. "You aren't enjoying the party?"

"Not particularly, but then again, I'm far from what you'd call a party animal," the brunette said, absently watching the way Malfoy's shirt all but moulded to his torso, showing off quite lovely defined musculature when he shifted from one foot to the other. Good lord, the man was fit. "I'm much happier curled up with a sci-fi movie or a manga."

"Manga?" Draco asked curiously and Harry snorted into his cup, coughing as some of the liquid went down the wrong way. Malfoy didn't know what _manga_ was? Jesus, he really had been in the 'in crowd', hadn't he?

"Never mind, maybe I'll teach you a thing or two later," Harry answered without thinking and then flushed a deep shade of red as the unintended double entendre rang through him. Bloody buggering hell. He shot a quick look at his companion, surprised to see just a touch of amusement around Malfoy's mouth and buried deep in his grey eyes.

"Maybe," he drawled quietly, and once again, Harry flicked him a quick, startled glance. On anyone else, he would have called that flirting. But it couldn't possibly have been. Not from _Malfoy_ of all people!

Could it?

"Err, yeah. Umm, so what are you doing in America and at Princeton in particular?" he asked, quickly changing the subject. He wasn't going to go there. Nope, not at all. "Last I heard, you were heading for London University."

That elegant brow rose again. "You knew which school I was going to attend?"

Harry grinned and met the other's gaze with a shrug. "When you're a small, nerdy fry like I was – hell, still am – you hear everything, especially when it's about your polar opposite, the big man on campus. Couldn't help knowing, really."

A corner of Malfoy's mouth turned up into something that resembled a smirk. "Right. I did go there, for my first year, but I transferred for this one. Better courses."

"What are you studying?" Harry asked as he turned towards the fridge, squeezing past a desperately snogging couple as he did so, pulled it open and actually managed to fish out a stray can of root beer. He offered it to Malfoy, who looked at the can with just a hint of a sneer, but took it anyway.

"Law. You?"

"History and English. I want to teach, but I want to teach people who are old enough to want to learn."

"I see," Malfoy said with a nod. "That makes sense."

"I thought so. So, where are you sta-"

"Harry! There you are!"

Both men turned to the doorway to see Harry's redheaded roommate and best friend, leaning against the jamb with a large grin on his face. Harry grinned back, walked over and slapped him on the shoulder, knowing perfectly well what that expression meant. Only Lavender made Ron that happy.

"Hey, mate. How'd it go?"

Ron sighed and his grin turned loopy. "Amazing. Just amazing. We're going out tomorrow, and I even managed to get a kiss goodnight. On the cheek, but that's good enough for me. She's gone home to study now."

"That's great, Ron, I'm really pleased for you," Harry said, actually meaning it. His roommate had been trying for two years to get Lavender to notice him. Harry was thrilled his efforts were finally paying off.

"Thanks. So, I was wondering if you're ready to split? Not much fun without Lav here."

"Ahh…" Harry looked back over at Draco, finding himself reluctant to end their conversation. He'd actually been enjoying the simple discussion. Ron glanced over as well and a smirk slowly replaced his happy smile.

"Of course, if you _want_ to stay here, that's fine too. I can see you back at the dorm later."

"No, no, I'll come," Harry said hurriedly, not wanting either Draco or Ron to get the wrong impression. "Just give me a sec."

He walked back over to Draco, who was leaning up against the bench and sipping his root beer, grimacing occasionally at the taste. The blond looked over when Harry approached.

"So, I'm going to call it a night. My ride's leaving and I don't want to stay too much later, anyway. It's bound to get worse as the night goes on. But I'm see you around, yeah? We do go to the same school, after all, so there's probably a high chance of it. Or at least a pretty good one in my way of thinking."

He knew he was rambling, but unfortunately, knowing didn't seem to mean stopping. It took Ron's stifled laughter to finally stop the spewing words. His embarrassment lessened somewhat when the corner of Draco's mouth turned up again, amusement once more sparking to life in his eyes. Harry sucked in a sharp breath at the beauty of them.

_Jesus, Potter, stop acting like a bloody bird!_

"Maybe," Draco said, repeated his phasing from earlier. He put his can down and straightening up from the bench. "I guess we'll see, won't we? Until next time then, Potter."

With that, he left the kitchen without another word, slipping past Ron and disappearing into the hooting crowd. Harry's gaze followed him as he left, jolting when a hand slapped down on his shoulder.

"Who was that?" his roommate asked, a knowing smile tugging at his lips. Harry ignored the expression and shrugged, still watching the empty doorway.

"You know, I'm not really sure. I thought he was someone in particular, but maybe he's not."

Ron hummed thoughtfully. "Okay. You gonna find out?"

"We'll see," Harry murmured, not entirely sure if 'finding out' was a good idea. His usually pretty perfect gaydar seemed to be suddenly on the fritz, and he didn't want to get too close if it turned out Malfoy was as straight as a bloody beanpole.

As good-looking as Draco was, his attitude had always managed to turn Harry off. Now, though, if that attitude had changed…

Well, now, that was just a whole other ballgame.


	2. Texts and boxers

**The Meaning of Adorkable**

Disclaimer: As this is All Human/Non Magic, the plot is obviously mine. The names of the characters and the original story this is based from belong to the great Rowling.

**Chapter Two – Texts and boxers**

_Well, that was just a whole other ballgame. _

* * *

The next morning, Harry woke to the sound of his phone chirping. Opening his eyes, he blinked and then groaned when he saw the wavy green numbers of the time glowing in the dark room. Five am? Who they bloody hell was texting him at five am?

Picking up his phone, he squinted at it, just able to make out enough to realize whom it was from. He groaned, threw it back down on his bedside table and turned over, closing his eyes. He'd get back to her later.

He should have known she wouldn't except that.

Thirty minutes and seven texts later, he growled under his breath and blindly reached for his phone. Sitting up, he scowled at the display again, jumping slightly when it went off in his hand, before scooping up his glasses and shoving them on his face. He tapped the screen and shook his head, reluctant amusement pulling at him at the escalating vibe of the texts.

_Harry, how are you? I haven't heard from you in a while._

_Harry? Are you there?_

_Harry. Answer me please._

_I know it's early, but I'd still like an answer._

_Harry Potter, you are being very rude._

_Honestly. Where are your manners?_

_Damn it, Harry, answer me!_

_HARRY JAMES POTTER, IF YOU DON'T ANSWER ME RIGHT THIS INSTANT, I WILL RING YOU AND SHOUT AT YOU IN PERSON!_

He chuckled and quickly texted back.

_Hermione, it's five thirty in the morning over here. I was asleep. And you can't shout at me in person over the phone. That isn't possible._

A minute or so later, his phone chirped with a reply.

_It is so. If we were in the same room and I was on the phone to you, it would be possible._

Harry laughed aloud, amusement at his best friend clearing all sleep from his system. Hermione was just so _logical._ He missed that about her. Hell, he missed her altogether. Not for the first time, he wished she'd come to America with him. But, no, Hermione Granger had gotten into Oxford, the same school both her parents had attended. Though Harry understood, he still missed her, especially considering that up until two years ago, he'd seen her every day.

He was proud of her, he really was. She was going to be a fantastic lawyer, fighting for those who couldn't fight for themselves. He just wished she'd decided to do it over here, with him.

Thinking of lawyers brought the night before back into his mind. Malfoy's picture perfect face flashed behind his eyes and he pursed his lips. He was kicking himself for not getting his number. He still had no clue about whether the blond preferred sausage or patty, and there was only one way to find out.

Unfortunately, he couldn't do that if he never saw him again.

How could he have possibly thought that they'd run into each other without arranging it first? Princeton was a big campus. The only guaranteed way that could happen was if they were studying in the same department. Which, of course, they weren't.

_If you want something enough, pup, make it happen._

Harry closed his eyes, sorrow nipping at his heart as his godfather's voice rang through his head. Talk about missing someone. Though Sirius had died four years ago and the hurt and despair had lessened a lot in the past couple of years, it would sometimes still sneak up and catch him unawares, punching him solidly in the gut. At least he was able to actually think about his godfather now. For a year or so afterwards, anything to do with Sirius would send him into a tailspin.

Harry had never known family until fate had brought him Sirius. Then, deciding to be cruel, those three bitches took him away again, almost destroying the young boy in the process. It was one of the reasons he was so close to Hermione. The girl had helped him through that painful year, as well as supporting him in the years that followed. She'd been the first person he'd come out to at fourteen, fidgeting nervously as he'd sat her down and finally blurted out that he liked blokes. Her reaction had secured her a place in his heart for the rest of his days.

_You're gay? I knew that. Have you finished your maths assignment, yet?_

He smiled as his phone chirped insistently again. Christ, he missed her.

_Harry? Have you gone back to sleep?_

He shook his head again and quickly texted back.

_No, Hermione, you've well and truly woken me up. _

"'Arry? s'not mornin' yet?"

The young man looked over at his roommate as Ron turned over and grumbled from his bed, blinking at him sleepily. Knowing that his phone would keep the redhead awake, which would put him a hell of a grump as he was far from a morning person, he slipped from his bed, tugged on a t-shirt and slipped on his sneakers.

"No, Ron, it's not morning yet. Go back to sleep, yeah?"

"'Kay," the other man sighed and Harry chuckled as he left the room, walking through the deserted hallway of his dorm and out into the fresh morning air. Thankfully, he was more than used to cold mornings, having grown up in England and spent his teenage years in Scotland. It wasn't all that bad, anyway. His t-shirt and boxers stood up well to the quick bite.

He settled down onto the step leading up to his dorm and quickly called his friend. She picked up within two rings.

"Harry!"

"Hey, Hermione," he said, grinning when she began to babble in his ear. "Slow down, would you? Can't understand a word you're saying."

"Sorry, sorry, I'm just so happy to hear from you! I haven't spoken to you in three week, Harry! Why have you been ignoring me?"

He sighed and ran his hand through his sleep-mussed hair, making it even wilder than it already was. "Yeah, sorry about that. I've just been really busy."

"Doesn't mean you can ignore your friends, Harry. I was worried."

"Shit," he sighed as guilt trickled through him. "I really am sorry. I kept meaning to get back to you, but then something else would come up. I'm surprised you let me go this long, actually."

The silence on the other end of the line was just a touch heavy and Harry felt the corners of his mouth turn up as he realized that he hadn't been the only one who'd been busy.

"A bit bogged down yourself, eh, 'Mione?"

His best friend huffed and he could just imagine her folding her arm in indignation. "Yes, but I don't live on the other side of the bloody world! And don't call me 'Mione."

"Technically, you do, from where I'm standing," Harry said, grin widened as she growled. He loved using her own logic to trip her up.

"Prat," Hermione grumbled, making her friend laugh.

"Love you too, 'Mi."

"Yeah, yeah. So, what have you been up to? Been studying hard, I hope."

Harry rolled his eyes. "'Course I have, _mum._ That's what I'm here for, after all."

"Yes, well, I had to prod you all the time while we were in school. You wouldn't have made it through fifth year if it wasn't for my study timetable."

"Oi, yes I would've," Harry replied lazily, holding back a yawn as his mind wandered. He needed to work on that History paper today, and he really needed to get some practise in. His instructor wouldn't be happy with him if he didn't. "It would've been harder, but I would've made it."

"Right," his friend said dryly. "A _lot_ harder. Admit it, Potter, you would've failed abysmally if it wasn't for me."

"Probably," Harry agreed with another grin. "But that's why you're so brilliant, Hermione, because you didn't _let_ that happen! And I love you for it."

"Oh, be still my beating heart," the girl deadpanned, making Harry laugh again and shake his head.

"Blimey, Hermione, I've missed you. When are you coming over?"

"Not sure," she answered, a smile in her tone. "Soon, I hope. I was looking at maybe getting an internship, but they're really hard to get, especially if you live in another country. You could always come home, you know. Stay with me for a while-"

"Potter?"

Harry's head whipped up and he stared, wide eyed, at the form of one Draco Malfoy standing on the sidewalk in front of his building. The man was dressed in professional-looking running shoes, a form-fitting, short-sleeve, dark blue t-shirt and a pair of black shorts that reached his knees. Though it was clear he was wearing clothes meant to run in, the outfit still screamed money, and he looked so unexpectedly sexy that Harry almost swallowed his tongue.

Who knew that a casual Malfoy was as hot as, if not more, than a formal one?

"Draco!" he squeaked, hurriedly clearing his throat. "Ah, what are you doing here?"

A single brow arched up elegantly. "I could ask the same thing. Why are you outside dressed like that?"

_Dressed like what? _Harry frowned. "Umm, I live here?"

"Still doesn't explain the boxers, Potter."

Feeling extremely flustered, the brunette glanced down and then groaned silently as he realized that, yes, he _was_ still sitting outside in his pants. Granted, they did cover as much as a pair of shorts did. And he hadn't been expecting to run into anyone, anyway, not at this time of the morning!

Why the hell did it have to be Draco bloody Malfoy, of all people?

"Harry? Are you still there? Who's Draco?"

He jolted as he remembered that his best friend was still on the other end of the phone.

"Err, yeah, I'm still here. Listen, Hermione, can I call you back later? Something's… come up."

"Of course you can, but you better not forget, Harry Potter!"

"I won't, I promise," he said with a smile, the expression turning mischievous as a thought occurred to him. "Maybe I'll ring you right before I go to bed tonight."

"What? Don't you _dare!_" Hermione gasped. "I'll be asleep!"

"Didn't seem to be a problem for you when you woke me up this morning, miss," Harry teased, laughing when she grumbled.

"Alright, I get the picture, no more early morning calls."

"Or texts?"

"Or texts," Hermione added with a sigh. "I'll talk to you later. Love you, you big buffoon."

"Love you too, 'Mi. I'll call later, I swear," he said with another smile, before hanging up.

"Call from the girlfriend?"

Once again, Harry's head shot up, though this time for an entirely different reason as a bubble of laughter escaped him. "What? Lord, no. Hermione's just a friend. You might remember her, actually. Hermione Granger?"

Draco's brows furrowed for a second before he shrugged. "Sorry."

"Bushy-haired know-it-all with big front teeth?" Harry elaborated, silently apologizing to his friend for the description, even if it was true.

Comprehension flickered through Draco's gaze. "Ah, yes, I remember now."

"Thought you would," Harry smirked. After all, there was only one Hermione Granger. "You never answered my question, earlier. What are you doing here?"

"Running," the blond drawled as Harry got to his feet. "I run past here every morning. I'll admit, this is the first time I've seen someone sitting outside in their undergarments."

"Yeah, well, Hermione texted early and me replying was waking Ron up, so I came out here," Harry muttered, fiddling with the hem of his tee as he felt his face flush with embarrassment. "I'll just let you get back to your run, yeah? I really need to… go back inside."

_Hey, world? Do me and favour and swallow me whole, would you?_

"Have you had breakfast, Potter?"

Harry turned back around again and blinked at the blond in surprise. "Ah, no-o."

"There's a café about twenty minutes from here that actually serves a decent English tea. Care to join me?"

Harry blinked again. "Weren't you running?"

"Yes, I was, Potter, but running does end, you know," Draco drawled again, a ghost of a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. "If you don't want to come, that's fine."

_Oh, I very much want to come, especially if you're the reason I do!_

Blushing hotly at his thoughts, Harry pushed them away as quickly as possible, lest they show on his face. His emotions tended to do that if he was feeling something strongly enough, and with Draco looking like so casually alluring, there was no telling what he'd unintentionally give away.

"Yeah, I want to c- ah, go," he said. "Just give me a minute, I need to get dressed."

"Take your time," Draco said as he checked his watch. "I need to get home and shower, anyway. I'll meet you there in, say, half an hour? The place is called The Bell Café."

"A-ah, yeah, I-I know the place," Harry stuttered, desperately trying not to think about Malfoy in the shower. It didn't work. His mind pictured droplets of water running down a firm torso, pooling in the dip of a navel and then continuing down a sexy little happy trail to run along strong thighs and into pale blond curls-

_Bloody hell, Potter, stop it!_ he scolded himself as his body began to react to his very vivid imagination. A pair of boxers would do absolutely nothing to hide the way he was feeling if he let his thoughts get away from him! "H-half an hour is fine."

The Malfoy heir cocked his head, brows furrowing as if he was trying to figure something out, before he shrugged again. "Alright, I'll see you there."

Harry let out a silent sigh of relief, nodded, and went to head back to his room, only to have Draco stop him once more.

"Potter?"

"Yeah?" he answered, turning around slightly and looking at him questionably. Draco wasn't looking at him, though. He was looking at his t-shirt.

"What does that say?"

Harry glanced down and then flushed a deep, brilliant red. _Shit. Why, oh, why, did I have to pick this shirt to chuck on? Bloody hell!_

"It's, ah, it's Klingon."

"Klingon?" Draco asked, raising a brow. "Off Star Trek?"

"You know what _Star Trek_ is?" Harry blurted, highly surprised. Draco just looked at him, something in his expression telling the brunette that he wasn't amused.

"I'm not _that_ much of a snob, Potter."

"No, no, I didn't mean that, I just… never mind," he muttered. "I'll see you in half an hour."

"You haven't answered me, you know. What does it say?"

Harry frowned, wondering why Malfoy wanted to know so bloody much. When he voiced the question, Draco pursed his lips.

"Curiosity. Humour me."

"Curiosity killed the cat," he muttered, tearing his gaze from those lips. Fidgeting for a couple more seconds, he finally sighed and looked up, finding the other man watching him. "You really want to know?"

When Draco nodded, he took a deep breath, embarrassment still burning his cheeks. Not because it was in Klingon, he couldn't have cared less about that. But if it had been in English, he wouldn't have been caught dead wearing in.

"It says… it says 'Come Play with My Gin'tak Spear.'"

Draco's brows winged and through Harry knew that the other man had no clue what a Gin'tak Spear was, he'd certainly caught the innuendo behind it. Once again, a ghost of a smirk pulled at that mouth, and Harry's eyes widened as the blond met his gaze. There was something buried in his eyes, something… _provocative? _

"Better be careful, Potter, you have no idea who might accept an invitation like that."

With that, he turned and jogged away, leaving a completely flabbergasted and decidedly intrigued young man behind him. Harry watched him leave silently, stepping out to follow him with his eyes as he rounded the corner, then sighed, turned, and walked over to begin gently banging his forehead repeatedly against the outside of the building.

_Christ on a crutch. I am in so much bloody trouble._


	3. High hopes

**The Meaning of Adorkable**

Disclaimer: As this is All Human/Non-Magic, the plot is obviously mine. The names of the characters and the original story this is based from belong to the great Rowling.

**Chapter Three – High hopes**

_Christ on a crutch. I am in so much bloody trouble._

* * *

The door slammed against the wall as Harry rushed back into his room, making his deeply asleep roommate surge up out of his bed with something that sounded a lot like a war cry. Harry glanced over at him in amusement as he headed for his mess of a closet. Ron was standing there with wide, startled eyes in just a pair of blue boxers, his tangled red curls falling all over his forehead and a sleep crease standing out on his left cheek. He was a picture, his best mate was, a rather cute one if Harry was honest with himself. If it wasn't for the fact that Ron was as straight as a ruler and the thought of kissing him made Harry shudder as much as the thought of laying one on his aunt did, their living arrangements would have been pretty convenient.

Not that he would have gone there, even if Ron did swing for his team. Ron Weasley had been the first friend he'd made when he'd moved to the States, someone who had alleviated a lot of the horrid mass of loneliness that had sat like a solid brick in his chest when he'd first arrived. Sure, he'd wanted to be there, more than anything, but he'd missed Hermione and the other schoolmates he'd known, he'd missed his country and the familiarity of his culture, and most of all, he'd missed the only home he'd ever known.

Hogwarts had been his lifeline. Moving away to attend the school, escaping the house he'd grown up in, the people who were supposed to care for him, had been the start of his life changing for the better. He loved every inch of that school, the first place he'd felt at home and welcome. Leaving that had been hard, harder than he'd thought it was going to be. But, with Hermione and his Head of House behind him every step of the way, he'd taken the chance and applied for a university in a completely different country, then left for the other side of the world when he'd been accepted.

That first month had been hell. His roommate at the time hadn't wanted anything to do with him, seeing his clothes and some of the things he'd brought with him and walking off with a ugly sneer and a mutter of "nerd." His classes had been harder than he'd thought they were going to be and everyone seemed to be focusing on themselves and ignoring him. For the first time he hadn't had Hermione pushing him to study and had had to rely on his own sense of responsibility to get through the horrific amount of work he now had to do. Add in the fact that the weather had been unseasonably warm, something that he hadn't been at all used to, which made it terribly hard to sleep, and you really didn't have a fun, upbeat British teenager exploring a whole new lifestyle and loving it.

He'd been on the verge of throwing in the towel and running home with his tail between his legs when he'd run into Ron. Literally. He'd been rounding a corner, head down as he'd tried to arrange his schedule so that he could at least try to get all his work done, when his forehead had met with a human wall, throwing him backwards onto the ground. Blinking a couple of times, he'd groaned and shook his head, before blinking again when a head full of red hair and concerned blue eyes had entered his vision.

"Shit, man, you okay? Sorry I didn't see you."

A hand had been held out and Harry had stared at it for a minute or two before reaching up and allowing himself to be hauled to his feet. After telling the stranger that, yes, he was fine, he'd thanked him and begun to walk by, his mind back on trying to sort his mess of a life out, when the bloke that had knocked him over had called out again.

"Hey, you're in my Philosophy class, right? You done that epically stupid paper yet?"

As the saying goes, it was the beginning of a beautiful friendship. Harry had gotten together with the redhead – whose name he later learnt was Ron – and worked on the paper, which had led to more study sessions, and pretty soon outings that hadn't involved schoolwork. They were the same age and the native New Yorker who hailed from Queens had been having much the same problems as Harry. They got on like a house on fire and when they'd both come back for their second year – Ron was studying Economics as well as spending a lot of time on the football field – as the school let second year students who chose to stay in the dorm choose their own roommates, they'd decided to room together.

The only hiccup they'd had was when Ron had found out Harry was gay, and that hadn't been because he was homophobic like Harry assumed was his problem. Like most typical, clueless men, Ron had jumped right into thinking Harry was attracted to him and gotten a little flustered and uncomfortable over it.

Then, when Harry had laughed himself silly after he's gotten the truth out of his friend, he'd moved straight on to being insulted.

Now, as Ron looked around wildly, searching for the source of his abrupt awakening, Harry shook his head fondly. He probably would have gotten through his first year perfectly fine without this bloke by his side, but it wouldn't have been nearly as fun.

"It's alright, mate, it's just me," he said as he threw a pair of jeans and a t-shirt over his shoulder – he was _not _wearing his Klingon shirt out of the dorm again – and headed back towards the door.

"Oh. Bloody hell, Harry, way to scare a guy," Ron groaned, falling back on his bed. Harry grinned at the British curse his mate had adopted. For some reason, the redhead loved it. He said it so often, he was even starting to get a slight London-ish accent coming through the vowels. "Where have you been, anyway?"

"Hermione wouldn't stop texting, so, like the great roommate I am, I took it outside."

"Oh, yeah, fantastic roommate, you are," Ron agreed dryly, leaning up and eyeing the pile of dirty washing lying at the end of Harry's bed. His green-eyed friend arched a brow then kicked at the pile with his foot, revealing amongst the material a red, woolly jersey with a large 'R' sewn on the front. Ron blinked then scowled at the offending jersey, before shrugging and grinning sheepishly. Harry laughed and shook his head again.

"Where are you going now?" Ron called after him as he continued heading for the door. "You're not going to come barging back in again, are you? It's too bloody early to get woken up a second time."

"Third," Harry corrected absently, stopping when he remembered that he didn't have everything and fishing around for his toiletries. "And yes, I am going to come 'barging' back in again, which is a good thing for you. You've got that paper to work on today, remember? The earlier you start the better."

"Yeah, yeah, mom, I know," his mate grumbled, burying his face into his pillow. "You didn't answer the question. Where are you going at this ungodly time on a Sunday morning?"

"Breakfast," Harry replied, unable to help the eagerness infusing his tone. He may not have complete conformation of which side of the scale Draco fell, but going by what Harry had been picking up on, it was looking more and more like the Malfoy heir knew very much how it was hanging.

His gaydar was pinging rather loudly, and more importantly, the arrow of interest seemed to be pointing quite firmly in his direction. Harry couldn't wait.

"Oh, well, bring me back a McMuffin, would you?" the redhead slurred as sleep tugged him down again. Ten seconds later, his heavy breathing filled the room and Harry grinned.

There were three things you could count on with Ron Weasley. One, he would always stick by his friends, no matter what. Two, if given the chance, he'd spend all day in the land of nod. And three, if he wasn't sleeping, he was eating you out of house and home.

It was familiar and continuous and something Harry would be grateful for, for a long time to come.

~0~

Pushing open the door to the café, Harry looked around, trying to keep the anticipation from showing on his face. As it was still early – far too early for most people, Ron included – the room was mostly empty, so it was easy to pick out the head of platinum blond sitting against the back wall. Draco was quietly reading the paper and sipping from a cup, a full tea set sitting on a silver tray in front of him. Harry took a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves, and headed over, smiling when the blond looked up.

"Potter," he greeted, glancing at Harry's t-shirt as the other man pulled off his corduroy jacket. "No Klingon, I see."

"No, I save that for special occasions," Harry joked, taking a seat. "Sorry to keep you waiting."

Draco shrugged. "Haven't been here long. I ordered earl grey, if that's alright with you."

"Fine," Harry answered, not wanting to admit that he wasn't much of a tea drinker. That was more Hermione's thing.

"So, you like maths as much as you like Star Trek?" Draco asked, placing a cup in front of his companion and nodded at Harry's shirt when the brunette looked confused. "You've got the symbol for Pi standing proudly on that shirt. You must like it."

"Not really," Harry disagreed, watching and holding back a cringe as Draco poured the steaming liquid into his cup. Trust the Malfoy heir to enjoy his tea. It was just so… _British. _He'd drink it, though, if it kept the blond talking. "Sure, I'm okay at maths, but I'm much more of a geek than a nerd."

A pale brow rose. "There's a difference? And why have a mathematical symbol on your shirt if you don't love maths?"

"That's easy. I love pie."

The cup Draco was raising to his lips, about to take another sip, paused as the blond stared across the table.

"You have the symbol for Pi on your shirt because you love pie? As in P.I.E? The pie you eat?"

"Yup," Harry answered, picking up his own tea and taking a sip, before grimacing and setting it back down again. No, he didn't think he could drink it, actually.

"That's… different."

The brunette snorted. "If you were going to say weird, then yes, it is."

"No, it makes sense, when you think about it. It's just a little… quirky." Draco sat back in his chair and folded his arms, watching his breakfast companion as if he was an intriguing specimen on a microscope slide. "Blatant come-ons in a made-up language and playing on a well-known mathematical symbol so that it means what you want it to mean instead of what it means to the world. You're a little different, aren't you, Potter?"

_Get back here, you freak, I'm going to wallop you good! Think you're so special, don't you? I'll teach you to lord yourself over everyone else! Standing out and drawing attention like you deserve it! You deserve nothing, you worthless piece of shit!_

Harry sat up straight in his chair and scowled as his uncle's voice railed in his head. Yes, he was different. Over the years, he'd learnt to accept and even embrace that. He was who he was and he didn't have time for people who thought he should be someone else. He liked who he was and he wasn't changing for anyone.

_You're overreacting, Harry. He just asked a question, for goodness sake._

Hermione's voice drowned out his uncle's and Harry scowled further, knowing that his conscience – read: Hermione – was right. He always bristled when someone questioned him, even if they didn't mean anything by it. It was a fault he was trying to work on.

"Potter?"

"Yes, I am," Harry answered, shaking away bad memories and focusing back on the café and who he was sitting with. "Always have been. It's not a bad thing."

Draco's head cocked slightly, gaze sharpening. "Never said it was. It's just an observation, Potter."

"I know, but… never mind. Will you excuse me a minute? I need coffee."

He got up and headed over to the counter, cursing under his breath. He hated how defensive he got when people called him out on the way he acted and the things he liked – especially when they were people who had opinions that he respected and wanted to hear about. His so-called 'family' had done a very good job of making him almost ashamed of not following the crowd like a brainless sheep. They liked to think they were the epitome of normal, the Dursleys did. And his aunt and uncle really hated it when he did even the littlest thing that, in their eyes, made him stand out. It had taken a very long time to battle past the opinions they'd drowned him in, and he still couldn't help reacting defensively when someone commented on it. Which they did. All the time.

Most people were quite happy to follow everyone else and live their lives as society saw fit. Harry definitely wasn't one of them.

After ordering his coffee, strong, sweet and black, he took a steadying breath and headed back to the table. Draco was still sitting there, calmly sipping his tea, though his brow did arch again when Harry sat down and took a greedy swallow of his coffee.

"You don't like tea?"

Memories of making constant cups of tea that weren't hot enough, or strong enough, too sweet or had no flavour at all, the leaves had broken through the bag or the milk had curdled, surged through Harry's mind. Whatever it was, it was never good enough, _he_ was never good enough, and most of the time the contents had ended up splattered across the walls and floor, or even across him. No, Harry _really_ didn't like tea.

"I prefer coffee," he replied simply, shaking those memories away as well. He really had to stop thinking about his abysmal relatives. He was on a date, for God's sake!

At least he thought he was on a date.

Lord, he hoped it was a date.

The curiosity in Draco's gaze grew. "Why did you accept the tea if you wanted coffee?"

"Because you went to the trouble of ordering it," Harry answered, taking another gulp of his drink and relaxing slightly as the caffeine worked its way through his system.

"Yes. For me. You could have said no. I was only offering out of politeness."

Harry looked at the blond and grinned playfully, deciding to try his hand at a little flirting. Without asking outright if this was a date, and bugger if he was going to do that, there was only one other way to find out. If Draco flirted back, well, he'd have his answer.

_Flirting Rule No. 9: Everything can lead to innuendo if you look hard enough._

"So, you didn't actually want to share with me, Malfoy?" he asked as he idly picked up the menu sitting under the tea tray and looked it over. Oooh, chocolate croissants. He was a sucker for sweet early in the morning.

"I find sharing has its uses at time, but generally, no, I like mine to remain mine," the other man answered, watching him over his cup.

"You don't like to give?" Harry continued innocently, still focused on the menu. "I do. I'm good at giving as well as receiving, truth be told, though I do prefer to get instead of take. What about you?"

He glanced up, flicking Draco a glance and a quick smirking smile, silently thanking anyone listening that his friend Luna had taught him how to do this in high school without blushing beet red. The girl might have been airy-fairy and out of it according to most of the school, but she knew how to twist words and use them to her advantage. She also knew how to do it with a completely straight face.

He might blush and stutter when caught off guard, but when he planned something, learnt something, he completed it smoothly and surely, without a stammer in sight.

As he was watching Draco quite closely, anticipating a reaction, he caught the way the other man's eyes widened slightly, his cheeks blossoming with just that hint of red. He opened his mouth and then closed it again, clearing his throat and shifting in his seat. Harry laughed under his breath, still holding his gaze. Draco Malfoy was sitting in front of him, all aflutter because of something he'd said!

_Flirting Rule No. 3: Touch as much as possible, and if it isn't possible, make it seem like your about to._

Leaning closer, he rested his hand on the table, fingertips just shy of touching the tips of Draco's. His heart began to race when Draco's gaze shot down to their hands and back up again, the grey of his eyes darkening to a thick, dark fog.

_Well, hello, look what we have here._

"Well? What about you, Malfoy? Do you give or ta-"

"Draco!"

Both men turned to the door at the shout and Harry couldn't help his scowl as he watched the girl come flouncing across the café towards them. She was the definition of the word 'cute'. Her long brown hair was tied back in a bouncy ponytail, her tiny, bow of a mouth was spread in a simpering smile and her nose was sort of squashed and turned up at the end – a look that on anyone else would have classified as pug-like and off-putting, but on her just added to the cuteness factor. It was the bright blue eyes that had Harry scowling, though. They were locked on his breakfast companion and they shone with calculation heavily shadowed with adoration.

"I _knew_ you'd be here! No use on running, lover, I've found you!" she squealed, the tone coming out sing-songy and sickly sweet as she crossed the floor and rounded the table… only to fall into Draco's lap and begin snogging the living daylights out of him.

Harry felt like he'd been punched in the stomach. He sat there, mouth open as the two of them ate each other's faces, Draco's hands clamping down on her hips and drawing her closer to him as he kissed her back with as much fervour as she was kissing him. He angled his head, hands tightening, and the girl moaned into his mouth and wiggled on his lap. Harry swallowed back the bile that invaded his throat, feeling his cheeks burn as he dragged his gaze away.

_Well, I guess that answered that question. Most definitely not a date._

The disappointment was hot, thick and shockingly vast.

"Er… I'll just… go…" he muttered, getting to his feet. The words made the couple come up for air and Draco frowned at him.

"You don't have to. Pansy can join us."

"Who's this, Dray?" the girl – Pansy – asked, pressing her cheek to his.

_Yes, who is this little hussy?_ Harry thought, before mentally slapping himself for such spiteful thoughts. Malfoy had never said that this was a date, so he no right to act like he'd been taken for a ride.

"Pans, this is Harry Potter. We were just catching up, as I went to high school with him. Potter, this is Pansy Parkinson, my girlfriend."

_Girlfriend. Well, I guess that means he likes innies instead of outies. On the other hand, he could like both, you never know. No, stop thinking like that, Harry! He has a girlfriend, he's in a committed relationship, get over it! Move on, he isn't for you!_

"Nice to meet you, Pansy," Harry said politely, reaching for his jacket and shrugging it on. "I'll leave you two alone. Make sure you try those chocolate croissants, won't you, they do look good. I'll see you around, Malfoy, yeah?"

Without waiting for an answer either way, Harry turned and headed for the exit, leaving the café and determinedly not looking back. Well, that was that. Shows what happens when you got your hopes up without establishing the facts first. He really needed to go check out a club or something, somewhere where everything was clear and you never had to guess what team someone played for. Then he wouldn't be feeling like someone had kicked his puppy and then thrown it in a river for good measure-

"Potter!"

Harry sighed and stopped, turning back towards the direction of the café, watching as Draco came striding towards him wearing another frown.

"Something wrong?"

"No," Harry lied, trying for a look of confusion. "Why do you ask?"

"That was a very abrupt exit. Do you have other plans?"

The brunette sighed again, one of his godfather's sayings running through his head. _When in doubt, tell the truth. It'll confuse the bastards and throw them off the scent._

Sirius had always made sense when he'd wanted to.

"No, no other plans. I just got the wrong impression, that's all. No harm done."

"Wrong impression?" Draco queried, eyebrow raised again. He did that a lot. It made him look arrogant, elegant, and so bloody untouchable that all Harry wanted to do was put his hands on him, in any way he could.

That was never going to happen.

"Yeah, the wrong end of the stick," he said, ignoring the dropping in his stomach at that thought. "I thought this was a little more than two ex-classmates, catching up. But don't mind me, I know better now."

That sexy brow didn't lower any. "You're still not making sense, Potter."

Harry scowled in frustration. Looks like it was going to have to be _very _clear.

"Malfoy, I'm gay. I thought that maybe you were too, and that this was a date. I now stand corrected, so I'm going to go. Like I said, I'll see you around."

_Or not._

There was a beat of startled silence. Once again, Draco's eyes widened and something flickered across his face so fast that Harry didn't catch it. He cleared his throat and then his expression smoothed out, until all the brunette saw was calm, cool and collected.

It was an expression Harry remembered seeing on the blond's face all the time in school. The Heir was back.

"Ah, yes, the wrong impression. I would have to agree. I'm afraid I prefer the female persuasion, Potter."

"I get that now. So, I'll go. Thanks for the company, Malfoy. Maybe I really will see you around."

"Maybe. Goodbye, Potter."

The brunette nodded and turned around again, thoughts churning as he tried not to choke on his disappointment. Malfoy was straight. Very straight, going by that little display in the café.

_Really?_ Harry thought as he continued his way back to the dorm. Suddenly, he found himself not at all convinced. Harry may not have that much experience with picking up signals, but there had to be a reason why he'd gotten the impression that Malfoy played for his team. He was positive they'd been something in his eyes a time or two, not to mention the way they'd darkened earlier with something that had looked a hell of lot like lust.

Shaking his head, he mentally took a step back before his hopes rose too high. He didn't know if he wanted to go there. Draco Malfoy was an intriguing character, full of twists and turns, with looks to match, but he either hiding from himself, out to himself but still in the closet, or just plain curious. Whatever it was, Harry was positive that getting involved was _not_ a good idea.

Malfoy might be up for satisfying his curiosity, but Harry could end up getting his heart broken. The journey would probably be fun – _very_ fun – but the destination would certainly end up being the pits.


End file.
